Seven Mothers: All Seven Of My Mothers Are Heavenly Goddesses?!

"Of course I'm wearing something, Luca! Why wouldn't I be?!" She snapped defensively, though the blush betrayed her composure.

"You sure? Because it's hard to tell from where I'm sitting." I smirked, tilting my head.

"Yes, Luca, I am wearing shorts! I found a pair in that pile of clothes you brought over!" Her cheeks puffed up, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

I folded my arms, giving her a slow, skeptical once-over. "Hmm…Doesn't look like it." My gaze lingered on the hem of the sweater, which barely grazed her thighs. 

That flicked a match to her temper...Her eyes widened in disbelief, and her jaw dropped. 

"What do you mean, 'doesn't look like it'?! Do you think I'd walk around your house half-naked?" She huffed, indignation radiating off her like heat waves. "I'm telling you, I have shorts on!"

"Hey, I'm just saying, it's rather suspicious...You don't really have to mind what I have to say." I shrugged, my grin widening. 

"Fine! If you doubt me so much, I'll prove it!" She inhaled sharply, her eyes blazing.

Gripping the hem of her sweater, she started to pull it up slightly to prove her innocence and rub it all over my face. 

But just as the fabric lifted an inch, her mind caught up with her actions, and a rush of mortification swept over her. What was she even doing? She froze, realising how this looked at the moment—A mother who looked to be flashing her son or lifting her skirt up for him to see what was hidden underneath.

Her grip on the hem faltered, and with a sudden burst of dignity, she let the sweater fall back down, straightening it out smoothly as though nothing had happened, as she couldn't handle the embarrassment of what she was attempting. 

Her expression then shifted into one of composed confidence, her chin tilted up just slightly. "There's no need for me to do such things, Luca...I know that I'm wearing something underneath, so as your mother I have no need to prove myself." She declared in a cool, dignified tone, as if the very idea was beneath her.

But I wasn't about to let it slide so easily, so I said something that I knew would work her up.

"It's fine, Mom, really...If you're a pervert who likes to go commando, I'm not judging." A smirk tugged at my lips as I played with a silver fork I had on hand. 

My mother's purple eyes flared wide, her jaw dropping as a vein twitched on her forehead. "Excuse me?" She snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"Hey, some people have their quirks...I'm not one to judge." I shrugged nonchalantly. 

Her nostrils flared, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. Her pride was on the line now. She clenched her jaw, eyes darting away in frustration before snapping back to me. 

"Fine!" She hissed, her cheeks flushed. "You want proof? You'll get your proof!"

Despite the obvious embarrassment flickering in her eyes, she grabbed the hem of her sweater with trembling fingers. A deep breath followed—she bit her lip, her blush deepening—and slowly, reluctantly, she began lifting the sweater.

The fabric inched up, revealing her creamy thighs and, finally, a pair of snug, dark shorts hugging her curves. The material strained just slightly against her plump thighs, clinging in a way that made it very clear she hadn't picked the loosest pair in the pile.

I blinked, my smirk faltering as I stared. There was no denying it now—she was wearing shorts—or at least what she thought were shorts. But they did absolutely nothing to make the situation less flustering.

My mother then exhaled, her initial fluster subsiding as she took in my stunned expression. Straightening up, she let the sweater drop back down and crossed her arms over her chest, a triumphant smirk curving her lips, thinking that I was shocked by the fact that I was proven wrong, when in fact it was because of something else, which I didn't know if I should reveal to her or not.

"Well, Luca?" She said, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction. "How does it feel to be proven wrong?"

"Y-Yeah, Mom...You really got me." I muttered, trying to play it cool, even though I really wanted to reveal the way she had messed up and was holding back for her dignity's sake.

But of course my mother didn't let the conversation die off and continued to provoke me.

"Next time, maybe think twice before calling your mother a pervert when you're the actual pervert for having such thoughts." Her smirk widened, and she leaned down just a bit, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

"Alright, alright! I get it, Mom." I groaned, covering my face with one hand, trying to hold myself back. "You don't have to say anything more."

But of course she didn't listen as she chuckled, clearly enjoying her victory, and continued taunting me by saying, "Good. Let that be a lesson...Never doubt your mother's dignity."

That was it...I was fine with letting her think she'd won at first, but her haughty attitude was just begging to be humbled. 

"Hey, Mom?" I asked casually, my grin stretching wider, a glint of mischief in my eyes.

"What is it, Luca? What is it that you want to say?" She straightened up, still smug. 

"Those shorts…They're pretty comfy, right?" I gestured vaguely at her shorts. 

"Yeah, they're…fine. Why do you ask?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, sensing something off but too proud to back down.

"Oh, no reason." I said, barely holding back a laugh. "They're just…The way they fit on your legs looks rather interesting. Not too tight on the waist, huh?"

Her brow furrowed, and she instinctively glanced down, her fingers tugging at the waistband. 

"Well, maybe a little snug, but they're your shorts, and I'm sure they're just—"

"Yeah, about that." I cut in, my grin widening like a cheeky cat. "Are you sure they're shorts? That they're the casual shorts one would wear in their house and not anything else?"

"Of course they're shorts! What else would they be?" She blinked, her confidence faltering. 

"Hmm. Just humour me for a second...Did you actually look at them before putting them on?" I tilted my head, letting the tension build. 

Her eyes flickered with doubt now. She tugged at the hem of the 'shorts' again, her voice a little less steady. 

"I-I mean, they were in the pile…with your clothes… I didn't think I needed to—"

"Let me help you out, Mom, and tell you something." I leaned in closer, my grin devilish, and then continued saying, "You're actually not wearing shorts."

"What?" Her eyes widened. She then looked at the fabric she was wearing and asked, "Then what am I wearing?"

"You're wearing my boxers."

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".."

"..."

Silence...Her mouth fell open, eyes darting to the waistband and then back to me. 

A crimson flush bloomed across her cheeks, climbing up to the tips of her ears. Her fingers, now trembling, pinched the hem again, this time lifting it just enough to get a peek at her soft belly. 

And when she saw the unmistakable elastic band with a famous underwear company's name stitched into it, she froze like a statue.

"These are…These are your boxers, Luca?" A strangled sound escaped her throat. "Boxers, a-as in the underwear you wear everyday?"

"Yep. My favourite pair, actually." I nodded, trying and failing not to burst out laughing. 

She stared at me, her face so red it looked like steam might come out of her ears at any second. Her hands shot down to pull the sweater lower, as if it could magically make the boxers disappear.

"Oh my god." She whispered, her voice barely audible. "I've been walking around in my son's underwear?"

"Yup! Strutting around, showing off, and, while at the same time, lecturing me about dignity!" I couldn't hold it in anymore and doubled over, laughing so hard my sides hurt. 

Her eyes narrowed into slits, her embarrassment turning into full-on fury.